The Consuming Desert
by G01den Unicorn 11
Summary: Modern day setting of a Legend of Zelda adventure. When Link finds himself abruptly adopted from his orphanage, he must learn to adapt to both a new home and a new school. But soon a new threat emerges, and the boy is plagued with a question: does he really have what it takes to become the Hero of Hyrule?
1. Prologue

Cover art by PiAddict. Used with permission. Go to my profile to find a link to his DeviantArt page.

The full list of everyone who helped me better this story is too extensive to give here. I will be sure to credit everyone individually at the end. For now: thank you very much, anyone who helped.

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Prologue

Zelda swatted at the snooze button on her blaring alarm clock and collapsed back into her bed. The dreams were getting worse.

Vague premonitions had haunted her sleep for as far back as she remembered, but of late they had increased in intensity. It had gotten to the point where she could hardly close her eyes without seeing half-starved Hylians crawling through a burning wasteland, or some frightening visage of an unknown god, glaring down from the starless heavens.

Lullabies did not help. Sleeping pills did not help. Perhaps the ancient princesses had some magical ability to deal with such conditions, but the only thing keeping Zelda sane was the boy at the end of the dreams, standing at the center of an encroaching darkness, sword pointed heavenward. There was a special light within him, though she felt it, rather than seeing it. It pierced invisibly through the clouds, illuminating her soul with hope.

Except in some dreams, the Hero did not appear.

Her alarm came to life once more, and the princess grudgingly turned it off and crawled out from under her sweat-drenched sheets. If it were only a month later, she could have opened a window and refreshed herself with the cool morning air. But this was mid-August, and even at six-thirty, the outside temperature would already be tiringly hot.

She contented herself by glancing at the posters (and the occasional portrait) that lined her walls. She had long been in love with the ancient legends of the Hero of Hyrule, ever since her mother had first told her of the Imprisoning War. Her collection of drawings of the Hero had grown quickly. The details varied from artist to artist, just as the tale changed in the telling. Sometimes he was a blond-haired youth with a level head and a closed mouth. Other times he was a dashing adventurer with piercing green eyes, a penchant for trouble, and a passion for irresponsible pyrotechnics. But what always shone through was a certain purpose, a singleness of thought, a refusal to let Hyrule submit to the forces of darkness.

And now he had returned. At least, that was what she hoped the dreams meant, if they meant anything at all. The alternatives did not bear thinking about.

She proceeded with the stretching exercises Nabooru had taught her, and as her muscles limbered she felt some of the stress draining from her. She would need a clear mind for the task ahead.

She had always hated the sleek blue limousine that ferried her everywhere from school, to her play dates, and now to the orphanage. She supposed it was possible that she had once enjoyed bouncing upon the leather seats or playing with the sleek array of buttons that lined the front of the passenger cabin. It was possible that she had once been taken in by the absolute luxury of it, back before she was old enough to truly remember such things. But as far as she knew, it had always felt like the prisons of olden times, hidden beneath the castle. It blocked nearly all signs of the outside world. The tinted windows hid the sunlight, and the muted interior blocked even the soft rumble of the engine. It was nearly enough to make her suffocate.

She tried to find alternate means of travel when she could, but they only went so far. Riding her bike to school in midwinter was hardly an option, and her guardian Nabooru would never allow her to simply go running through downtown Castle Town.

Said guardian currently sat across from her, scowling at a notebook. Even after nine years, Zelda still sometimes found herself intimidated by the intensity of the Gerudo. Perhaps it was the fire-red plume of hair, gathered together in a luscious ponytail that fell all the way to her lower back. Perhaps it was the gem set upon her forehead, that sometimes caught the sunlight and seemed to add an other-worldly gleam to her dark brown eyes. Much of it probably had to do with the tales her mother had told her, before Nabooru had entered her life.

They were stories from ancient history, of great wars, of reconstruction, of love and sorrow and hope. But no matter the setting, no matter the style, the Gerudo were there, looting and burning. Most fearsome of all was Ganondorf Dragmire, the eternal king who, if tales could be believed, had driven Hyrule to ruin countless times throughout history. The Gerudo were always the villains, the soulless fiends.

Many of their number had since settled in among the Hylians, but they remained distrusted, even a century after the integration began. Even half a millenium since the last threat from the desert. Zelda wondered if she would have shared this bigoted fear, had her Gerudo guardian not saved her from a fiery death.

The snap of Nabooru flipping shut her notebook drew Zelda from her reverie. The Gerudo cast it down beside her and crossed her arms with a huff. Much of the dark intensity had melted from her face, but her brow still held a deep furrow.

"This is the seventh one, Zelda," she said. "I didn't even know Castle Town had this many orphanages."

"We'll go to as many as it takes," Zelda responded with a shrug. "He will turn up, somewhere." She gazed out the tinted window to hide whatever uncertainty her face was showing. When she had begun this project, she had expected to visit two, maybe three orphanages at most. She was fated to meet him, after all, wasn't she? But every passing week, every new failure screamed that this was hopeless, that she was a fool for believing the ancient texts and the odd dreams.

"And if that fails? If we don't find this hero of yours at any orphanage in the city? Will you search the entire country?"

"If I must." She turned to meet Nabooru's level stare, for as much as she doubted this quest, she knew that she had spoken the truth. She would never give up. Hyrule was facing a new threat, and its hero would rise once again to defend it. She had to believe it, she just had to. If the dreams were not prophetic, then they might point to insanity, and that thought was too terrifying even to consider.

Nabooru sighed and picked up her notebook again. Zelda couldn't blame her skepticism; Zelda's actions would certainly seem foolish to one who had not had the dreams herself, who had not seen the fire spreading across the land, consuming all. But if her father had taught her anything, it was that one does not make history simply by doing what is expected of her.

The buzzing of her cellphone served as a nice distraction from her worries about the plan. She eagerly snatched it from the brown leather purse by her side.

"hey, wan2 get br8kfast? brother found sweet pancake place"

Zelda sighed. She had told Desiree her plans for that morning just yesterday. Twice even. That girl could probably manage to forget something even if you tattooed it on her arm. Zelda giggled to herself as she composed her response.

"I'm visiting another orphanage today, remember? :)"

The reply came back just seconds later:

"thats wat 10 now zel? u & ur orphans ;)"

Zelda sighed. Of course, she hadn't told anyone but Nabooru about her quest to find the Hero. As far as everyone else knew, she was trying to get involved in the community and make a few poor children's days a bit brighter. She just wished they had tried to understand. The best of her friends thought it a cute diversion. Most thought she was doing something weird. No one would ever say that to her face of course, but she heard the whispers all the same. It couldn't be helped, she supposed. You didn't get to both be a princess and fit in with everyone.

She hurriedly typed up a half-hearted response about dinner, then put her phone away as the limousine pulled to a stop.

"We're here!" Zelda announced to no one in particular.

"You are planning on changing before you get out, yes?" Nabooru cut in as Zelda reached for the door.

Zelda sighed. She was wearing a pair of faded pink shorts and a pale blue baby tee that had the lightest fabric she could find. In short, it was the perfect attire for the blistering August heat. She knew better, of course, but she had to protest. It was a matter of principle.

"Really?" she pleaded in the best whine she could muster.

"The children here have been told that they shall see a princess, and a princess is what they shall see." Her voice was dry, bored even, but Zelda thought she saw the Gerudo almost crack a smile.

"But it's so hot," she groused as she began pulling off her clothes. The dress could have easily fit over the thin garments, but this was one princess who wasn't wearing any more layers than she absolutely had to.

"Besides, what if someone tries to kidnap me?" she continued as she retrieved a spare royal dress that hung in a hidden side compartment. "I can't outrun anyone in a dress."

"Zelda, if you fail to outrun a dead person, then I have abysmally failed you in your training." Nabooru grinned and ran a finger along the ceremonial scimitar that was always at her side. Of course, Zelda did not believe for a second that that was the only weapon her guardian carried. The scimitar was just what she wanted everyone paying attention to.

Zelda just rolled her eyes and turned to let Nabooru lace up her back. Changing clothes in a vehicle was not terribly pleasant, but it was a skill she had mastered long ago. She would do anything to get away with just five fewer minutes of wearing a dress, or whatever other manner of traditional fanciness her father sought to impose upon her.

But of course, she'd run right into this one herself. Six weeks in a row of putting on a dress, and here she was pressing toward number seven. Maybe she really was growing up. Maybe next time she'd even come out to the limousine in her finest dress and let Nabooru try to figure out what was wrong.

Fully attired once more, she pressed the button that signaled the chauffeur and waited for him to open her door. Because even though they were parked in the back, well off the road, she had to make a proper exit just in case someone, somewhere happened to be watching.

When the man opened the door, she immediately envied his sunglasses. She blinked her eyes against the sudden onslaught of light before stepping out into the late summer heat.

Even as she began her approach, the rickety screen door on the back of the building creaked open and a tall man whom Zelda took to be the manager sauntered out. In spite of the heat, he wore a long-sleeved shirt buttoned all the way to the top and adorned with a simple green tie. His bright smile threatened to outdo the sun, but then he bowed low, presenting her with his perfectly cut brown hair.

"You honor us with your visit, Your Highness."

"It will be a pleasure," Zelda responded with the well-rehearsed words as the man came out of his bow. "Thank you for making time for me, Mr. …?"

"Chad Timmons, if it please Your Highness," the man said, leading them the rest of the way to the building. "I own the place, keep it running as well as I can, but it's really that staff that does most of the work. You'll meet Rebecca this morning. Nice girl, very diligent." He grabbed the door and held it open.

Zelda passed through into a large kitchen where a pair of cooks bustled about. It was cleaner and better equipped than many she had seen in the past few weeks, but it still paled in comparison to that of the Lanayru Orphanage at the heart of Castle Town. The breakfast feast they had pulled off, complete with custom omelettes and pancakes the size of dinner plates, had made even Zelda slightly jealous.

Mr. Timmons led her through the bustling team of cooks and into the dining room beyond, where a handful of young children greeted her with a cheerful "Good morning, Your Highness."

Zelda put on her best smile and turned to face the adorable welcoming party. Four boys and two girls stood in a perfect line, all bowed at the waist so far they were nearly parallel to the floor. Behind them stood a young black-haired woman whose bow seemed even deeper, if that were possible. None were hero material.

"Up, up," Zelda laughed. "You can't very well show me how to serve food if you're all looking at the ground."

Mr. Timmons sent the woman off to rouse the other orphans while Zelda got set up. A curly-haired boy with shining brown eyes eagerly guided her through their daily process of washing their hands and getting the food ready. She would be responsible for the apple slices, it turned out.

"They get five," the boy, named Brandon, emphasized.

As she waited for the rest of the orphans to arrive, Zelda did her best to prepare herself for the line-up. That's how she had come to think of these weekly breakfasts. Except in most line-ups, you had actually seen the person you were looking for before. All she had to go on were fleeting dreams and fragments of history which agreed on nothing but his clothing. And her Hero was unlikely to be wearing a green tunic and tall leather boots in an orphanage, or anywhere else for that matter. Where would he even find a tunic?

His hair could be blond, or maybe it was brown, or something in between. He could be right or left handed, maybe blue eyes, maybe green, and he was probably not tall. That was really all she had to go on. But it would be enough. It had to be enough. She was Princess Zelda of Hyrule. If she couldn't pick the Hero out of a line-up... well that would just be stupid. The Princess always knew the Hero. Surely if all the stories agreed on something, it had to be true.

She was still trying to convince herself of this when the main dining room door swung open, and in marched the parade of orphans. The excited whispers that ran throughout the line were much the same as those that had greeted her elsewhere. Most of the children said "Good morning, Your Highness," as they came by with their trays. Some just stared at their feet and mumbled. Each one she gave five apple slices, with Brandon standing right by her side to remind her in case she got confused.

The children's faces did not take long to start blurring together in her mind. Some had rosy cheeks and strawberry hair, others a pale complexion, some dark, some with freckles, and even one she suspected might be a Gerudo. She tried to look at each as intently as possible without staring, but she could not help thinking that one looked much the same as another. And there were certainly none with... with the presence she had felt in the dream.

Besides that, she saw no one older than ten. The Hero was supposed to be near her age. She had only seen one orphan as old as fifteen on her little tour, and that had been a girl. Most were adopted well before then. But he couldn't have been adopted. Not yet. He had to be alone before he began his quest. That was just how it worked.

When all had been served, she tried not to let her disappointment show and she and six other servers grabbed food for themselves. There was something that just felt right about this one. But it was a loss, once more. Though Nabooru was far too refined to ever say "I told you so," she knew her guardian was thinking it all the same.

She managed to pull off the rest of the visit with her typical good nature, but it was a struggle. As she read to them from Hyrule Historia of the Imprisoning War, a crimson-haired girl snuggled up beside her, she couldn't help but picture the boys around her trying to wear the Hero's tunic, to wield the Master Sword. They died, every one, before the quest even began. She turned her despair into bitter overtones that served to highlight the darker aspects of the story.

This quest was wearing on her. She did not know how much failure she could handle. How many more orphanages would it take to break her? If the goddesses were good, she would not find out.

At last the visit came to an end. She bid the beaming children farewell and returned to her limousine.

"Ugh, I need coffee," Zelda moaned as the vehicle pulled away from the orphanage.

"Zelda, there are people all over the country who get up at six-thirty without coffee and do just fine."

"Oh, I'm sure there are," Zelda replied, slipping out of her dress, "But I'm just a frail princess. It's hazardous to be up any earlier than 7:00."

"Frail indeed? I feel like I should be recording this. For the next time you decided to dart out into the middle of heavy traffic."

"Nabooru, that was three years ago!"

Nabooru just rolled her eyes and pressed a button on the side.

"James, find a decent coffee shop. We're taking a detour."

Zelda grinned. She had only been allowed to drink coffee for a year now, and already she couldn't imagine how she ever got up without it. She hadn't had time that morning, and the headache was rather annoying.

She barely had time to change back into her summer attire when they stopped, and at her signal James opened the door.

"Cuccos and Coffee, huh?" she said, reading the letters lining the top of the building.

"A sandwich shop, Your Highness, though I am told they have rather exquisite coffee as well," James offered.

Zelda shrugged. At this point, she might just settle for caffeinated water. She thanked the chauffeur and entered. The blast of the air conditioning covered her body with chills, and suddenly she wished she had selected clothing with a little more fabric. Even so, it wasn't too uncomfortable, and by the time she had a steaming hot cup of coffee in her hands it would be quite pleasant.

She placed her order and sat down at a table far from the window as she waited for it to arrive. Dressed like a typical teenager, few people would stop to recognize her as Hyrule's princess. Still, there was no point in taking chances by letting every random passerby see her. She idly wondered if normal people ever had to think about such things.

Nabooru slid in opposite her. She did not have her notebook. The full force of her gaze bore down upon Zelda. It was all she could do not to squirm.

"How much longer will this go on?" Nabooru's quiet tone did not make her words any less menacing. "This is a foolish dream, Zelda. It is a waste of your time, and every passing week adds more to the disappointment you will feel when you realize this."

"You know the histories as well as I do," Zelda shot back. "The women of this family have the power of prophecy. I know what I dreamed."

"Yes, I know the histories. The line of Hylia may have prophesied once, but the old magics are gone. You are a princess, and you have a duty."

"I am doing that duty."

"You are chasing a baseless wish." Nabooru's face was so close to hers that she could see her dilated pupils, feel the air coming from her nostrils. "You think you are special, princess? You are an accident, a random mixing of your parents' genetic code. You think you have some greater purpose? Some divine mission? You think yourself so great that the Goddess would trust you and you alone with the fate of Her children? You think-"

Suddenly, she cut off and whipped her head to the side. Zelda followed her gaze until her eyes landed on a young waiter in the green uniform of Cuccos and Coffee, standing beside their table.

"Um, I'm sorry to interrupt, miss, but your coffee is ready."

Zelda's hand trembled as she reached up to accept the cup. A crop of unkempt blond hair fell about his ears, and he stared down at her with the widest, purest blue eyes she had seen but once before.

Her hand grasped the cup, but his did not let go.

"Are you okay? You don't look too well. I think the manager has some aspirin, if..."

"I feel absolutely wonderful," Zelda said, not taking her eyes from his. His arm slowly retracted.

"If you say so then," he said and returned to work.

"Zelda?" Nabooru prompted. "What was that?"

Zelda turned to her and grinned.

"I've found him."

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**A/N:**

A note on characters: As you may have noticed, this work contains OCs. There are simply too many characters that it would be awfully contrived to do this otherwise. One or two will even play major roles in the plot. You will still get your fix of the classic characters, though, I can promise you that.


	2. Chapter 1

**Challenge:** Can you name all the unnamed canon characters in this chapter?

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**Chapter 1**

Breakfast at the orphanage was always a lively affair, but today it threatened to be particularly overwhelming. Not only had they received a visit from a real live princess just the day before, but there was a picnic scheduled for the afternoon. It would likely be their last one before school began once more, so everyone seemed determined to make it as big as possible.

But as children around him chattered about the coming events, Link just stared down into his murky bowl of oatmeal. He had completely missed Princess Zelda's visit because of his job, and these picnics never ended well for him. He tried his best to feel happy for the remaining orphans, he really did. He told himself that their screaming was 'vivacious' each time he tried to think 'obnoxious' instead. He tried to pretend he was like Miss Rebecca, who always had a rosy smile for everyone at the end of the day, no matter how badly they misbehaved. But in the end, nearly everyone he had been friends with had long since been adopted, and what remained was a cluster of boys and girls slightly older than half his age at best.

The one exception to this was Fado. She had been at the orphanage nearly as long as Link, yet somehow she never let that depress her. She skipped more often than she walked, and sang quite frequently. Somewhat too frequently given her complete lack of talent, but it was song regardless.

Said girl had just approached the table, her breakfast tray laden with a plethora of fruits and a bottle of chocolate milk, and sat down across from Link.

"'Morning, Link! Ready for the picnic?" she beamed. Somehow, the pair of blue sunglasses resting atop her head made her wide smile seem even more ridiculous. They weren't even going to leave for a few more hours.

"Yep," he told her. "Picked up a book from the library on the way home yesterday."

"Oh no. This is the last picnic before school. You can't spend it reading a stupid book under a stupid tree."

Link opened his mouth to reply, but she raised a finger and violently shushed him from across the table.

"You are going to have fun. I am going to make you, and that's that," she said, conclusively crossing her arms. Her face squished into a stern glare, but her eyes shone with concealed laughter.

"As you command," Link said, and she released her glare into another fit of giggling. "But no families."

"Don't worry Link," Fado returned. "There's plenty to do on picnics without families or books."

In reality, these picnics they had were little more than excuses to showcase the orphans to families interested in adoption. This was the real reason why he couldn't look forward to the outing like the others did. He used to love playing the games the strange adults provided: kickball, scavenger hunts, or even just card games when the weather turned cold. But as friend after friend found themselves a new home, his hope faded. Even that brat Mido had found some widowed teacher to take him in. Meanwhile, no one seemed to even notice Link.

Rather than join the activities and get his hopes crushed yet again, of late he had taken to sitting apart with his homework, or just a book during the summer. He would even pick up an extra shift at Cuccos and Coffee, when Miss Rebecca allowed it. And then just like that Fado put an end to it.

"Oh, stop looking like that. This is going to be awesome, you'll see." As she went off listing all the things that might occupy their time ("We could pick dandelions!"), Link finished the rest of his breakfast in silence. That was one of the good things about being friends with Fado: you never really had to talk that much.

The oatmeal was far less watery than the thin brothy substance they usually got. There was even a bowl of brown sugar and all sorts of blueberries and strawberries to ornament it with. Leftovers from the Princess's visit, no doubt. Brandon, one of his roommates, had said they had even had pancakes as large as plates. Those all appeared to be gone, however, and Link was sure the improved oatmeal would follow close behind.

Once they all finished eating and scrubbed the tables clean, there was little left to do before the bus left at ten. Most began to play, stepping outside for a game of tag or clustering around the television in the corner of the larger dining room to see the morning cartoons. Link told Fado he'd see her at the picnic and returned to his room, and to his bed.

He had not slept the night through since July, perhaps June. The dreams had not yet begun then. At first, it was just a bolt of terror, striking him from his slumber. As the nights passed, a scowling face began to take form, a face with burning eyes. Red eyes. Eyes that knew him, eyes that consumed him. They stared him down, bending him under their fury, until finally he woke up, back in the room he had slept in his whole life.

At one point he had grown too frightened to sleep. Once his three roommates had begun their gentle snores, he would creep down from his bed, fighting off sleep. But exhaustion had soon consumed him. The second time he had awoken on the floor with a stiff neck and a numb arm, he resigned himself to the terror of sleep. He had dreamed no less because of the floor anyway.

He kicked off his shoes and crawled beneath his covers, which were still damp from his sweat. The sheets became rank very quickly now, but he saw no way to clean them more often than once a week without rousing suspicion. If Mr. Timmons found out he'd been having chronic nightmares, he might put him somewhere else. Somewhere worse. He had heard stories of those who could not handle the loss of their parents and been sent to the asylum. He knew better than to believe everything he said, of course, but the thought still unnerved him. Besides, he could still think well enough. It was sleeping that was the problem.

He set his alarm for 9:30. It was only an hour away, but that suited Link best. He had done some research at the library and found that dreams usually didn't happen until after ninety minutes of sleep. Trying to time his sleep so that he was never asleep for more than ninety minutes at a time had been another failed experiment. He couldn't bring himself to keep it up regularly, but a nice short nap with the morning sun warming his bed would be refreshing. Link closed his eyes and dozed.

As it turned out, Link got not one, but two naps before the picnic. Bus rides were another good source of dreamless slumber, once Fado ran out of things to say.

"You're so lazy," she said, shaking him awake at their destination. "I bet you'd even sleep through your own birthday, if Miss Rebecca let you."

They followed the crowd out of the bus. It was parked before a large expanse of grass. Here and there, large gnarled oaks stood tall, the promise of cool shade beneath their great boughs.

Already some orphans were running down the dirt path that lead to a wide pavilion where the latest group of strange adults waited with their food and their toys. Past the pavilion, the path wandered on, twisting lazily until at least it lead into a grove of trees in the distance.

"Go play!" Miss Rebecca called over the bustle. "Lunch will be ready soon enough."

It did not take long for for a balding man with an enormous chest and a voice like a charging bull to organize a game of kickball with some of the boys. Meanwhile, a modest-looking young woman with two neat pigtails brought out some dolls, and a tall, stern-looking man with pure black hair that fell past his shoulders and weathered leathery skin began a four-way game of catch.

Fado grabbed his hand and tugged him away from the various games, under the shade of one of the trees.

"Wait there, this is gonna be awesome," she said, scampering off.

Link sighed and steeled himself for whatever game of pretend Fado had planned. At least, that was what he thought she had planned. There was little else to do without involving the visiting families. The only toys there were what the visitors brought, probably to encourage the children to interact and bond more. There were hiking trails in Lanayru park, but leaving the immediate grassy area would require adult supervision.

She soon returned, followed by two small girls. Michelle and Sandra, he thought they were called. A few years ago he had known the name of everyone in the orphanage. Now, he was hardly ever sure of anything.

"Why do I have a bad feeling about this?" Link said.

"You always say that," Fado pouted. "This'll be fun; we're playing house! You're the hard-working husband, just home from a day at the office. I'm your loyal wife, and Michelle and Sarah are our children."

Oh, Sarah. That was her name. As similar as they looked, Sarah and Michelle may very well have been sisters. Slightly taller than Link's leg, they both wore their brown hair in ponytails and giggled incessantly. They even wore matching purple sundresses.

"So, house. Alright then. What do I do?" Link said. It sounded a lot like the hero games he used to play with Pipit, except without the monsters, or swords, or anything else that made hero games exciting.

"Well, you're tired from another hard day at work. Why don't you go sit down in your favorite chair, take off your shoes and relax," Fado said, pointing at the tree. Complying, Link sat down against it with a sigh. He took off his shoes and socks and let the grass tickle his feet.

"How was your day, honey?" Fado said, giving him a sweet smile that felt horribly out of place on the young troublemaker.

"Er… it was hard. Really hard," Link said, floundering for a suitable answer. "I'm beat, yeah. Lots of paperwork, you know?"

"Story, daddy!" Michelle said.

"Yeah, daddy, story! Please?" Sarah echoed.

The two bounded up to him, grabbing him by each arm. They stared up at him with their little green eyes as they continued to shout story, until Link had no choice but to consent.

"All right, all right, just calm down and I'll tell you a story," he said.

He waited to begin until they had settled down. Both chose to snuggle tight against him, rendering his arms immobile. Link didn't complain. It was better than being rejected by yet another family.

"This is a tale of the Hero, whose name is forgotten." he said, beginning with the traditional opening. "He has been called many things: Hero of Time, Hero of the Winds, Chosen of the Goddess. Today he is called The Wanderer."

The word surprised him. He had never heard any tales of a Wanderer Hero before, and he was certainly not going to make up something new on the spot. But the word flowed out of him before he could think about it, and before he could stop himself he continued the story.

Now the Wanderer was on a great journey, for he had grown restless in his home country. Many foreign lands he saw, and islands hidden in the Great Sea as well. From the fairies, he learned much of magic, and with the knights of Celathim did he refine his skill with the sword.

But the time had come to return home, for there was a great foreboding in his heart that spoke of yet another threat. So the Wanderer found himself a ship and turned back to his land of Hyrule.

As the ship sailed homeward, it came across a great storm. The sea roared, the thunder cracked, and despite the Wanderer's best efforts the ship broke apart in the fury of the sea.

The Wanderer grabbed hold of a spar of wood. He held tight as the sea buffeted him, but alas, the storm was too great, and he was thrown from the spar.

How he survived he could not say. The next thing he remembered was his awakening. A feather bed in a warm cottage, a fair maiden tending to his wounds. Her eyes were the deep blue of the ocean, and her red hair the flame of the sun.

As the Wanderer's body grew stronger under the care of the Maiden, so did his love for her. He saw in her the joy of adventure, the spark of life almost extinguished in Hyrule under the power of the Great Enemy. And as he mended, and took to his feet once more, his heart grew heavy, for he knew that the day would soon come when he would her.

"I have a duty, my love, and I must needs return to Hyrule," he told her.

"That is impossible; for I tell you true: no man may leave this isle while the Wind Fish sleeps," the Maiden answered.

And so, when he regained the use of his sword, the Wanderer set out on a quest to wake the Wind Fish. He fought his way across marshes and plains, over mountains and through forests, collecting the instruments which were said to hold the power to wake the Wind Fish. The monsters of the island fell to his blade. They learned to fear the name of the Wanderer and cower at his approach. He soon had many instruments, and it seemed that the end of his quest drew near.

But one day, he came upon a shrine, hidden in lands where no man had dared to trod in centuries. It was protected by a dark magic, and guardians of living stone that sought to bar his passage, but the Wanderer entered nonetheless.

The shrine contained but a single tablet. "Human, Monster, Sea, Sky: A scene on the lid of a sleeper's eye. Awake the dreamer, and all will vanish as a bubble on a needle," it read. When the Wanderer saw those words, he knew it in his heart to be true.

He gnashed his teeth and cursed the heavens, but the words remained unchanging. But he would not be swayed from his quest, for he had sworn a vow, and he would challenge even the Goddesses to uphold it.

At last he stood before the slumbering Wind Fish, seven instruments of the Sirens in hand. But before he could finish his quest, a fell wind blew through the room, and the torches fluttered out, and a shadow formed.

It attacked the Wanderer with all its strength, lashing out with a dark force that drove him ever backward. But the Wanderer was undeterred. He kept his eyes upon his foe, and when the chance arose his sword pierced into the heart of the darkness.

The shadow let out a great scream that shook the walls. It altered its form into that of a great snake; and when the Wanderer defeated that too, the shadow did reach into the deepest darkness and draw forth the form of the enemy: the one called Ganon, the Great Usurper, the Scourge from the Desert, the King of the Evil.

For days the battle raged, the Wanderer and the shadow of his eternal enemy locked together before the Wind Fish. As the Wanderer grew weary, and his blade began to falter, he saw once more the sweetness of his home, and the forests and rivers and people that inhabited it; and he knew that he would never allow himself to fall.

"You cannot hold me back, you beast, you shade of a fallen monster. I shall be Hyrule's Shield so long as those such as you seek to defile it; yea, even unto the end of time," he cried, and cleft the enemy's great sword from his own hands.

"Strike me down if you will, but know first what you will lose." So saying, the shadow took on one last form, and the Wanderer fell to knees before the Maiden who had stolen his heart.

"Stay with me, my love. Show me the secrets of the island. Be happy, my love, and set yourself free."

"Yes, I shall be free, but not happy. I could never again be happy in a world without you."

With tears staining his face, the Wanderer lifted his sword and plunged it deep into her stomach. As her life fled from her, she opened her heart and poured forth one last song. She filled the dark room with the only beauty it would ever know. At the sound of her voice, the seven instruments raised up, and themselves began to play along with her.

The world faded, and the Maiden along with it. But though her voice was gone, the song remained, echoing through the nothingness that now pervaded the Wanderer's mind. Though it lasted an eternity, it ended far too soon; and with a heart heavy with regret for what might have been, the Wanderer opened his eyes to behold the shore of Hyrule.

He had at last returned home.

When the tale finished-where had that even come from?-no one moved. Sarah and Michelle still held onto his arms, and before him Fado kneeled in the grass, eyes wide. There was someone else behind her, a man with purple hair. It was an odd color, but it seemed somehow to fit him. It added a warm softness to his thin, pale face.

"Well, this looks like a young man in need of rescuing if I ever saw one," he said, walking forward. "Link, isn't?" The man extended an arm.

Link gently shrugged off the children and rose to take it. "Yes sir. But they really aren't a problem."

"Call me Kafei, please," the man said. "Are you sure this is the ideal way to spend a beautiful afternoon like this? I've been coerced into playing house a time or two myself."

There was something about the easy way the man presented himself that made Link want to like him. He was different from the other grownups Link had known. Kafei spoke without condescension, almost as if they were equals.

"How would you like to go for a little hike? I've never been out here before, and those woods look beautiful," Kafei said.

"Hold it mister," cut in Fado. "You aren't taking him anywhere without me."

"Oh, is that so?" Kafei said, raising his eyebrows as he turned his head toward the girl.

"I would feel more comfortable with Fado along," Link admitted. He really should have just said no. Everything in him was screaming that this was a bad idea, that he would just be disappointed again, but he could not help hoping that this could be his big chance.

"Well, I suppose we'll have two beautiful children keeping us company today. I'll just go find my wife, and we can be off."

His wife, a rather plain red-haired woman perhaps half a head shorter than Kafei, was unwrapping food with Miss Rebecca, smiling meekly as the caretaker chattered away.

When Miss Rebecca learned that Kafei wished to take Link and Fado for a hike, she could not have been more thrilled.

"Now, you'll probably be out during lunch, so here are some sandwiches for you," she said, throwing some food into a small cloth bag for them "You enjoy peanut butter, yes? Oh, what am I saying, of course you do. And you have enough water?"

"Several bottles full," Kafei responded, opening his brown knapsack. Miss Rebecca glanced in, then turned back to the food.

"Let's see, sandwiches, fruit… oh, have a cookie too. Mallara won't mind, I'm sure. Do remember to smile, Link. Everyone likes a happy boy."

"Yes ma'am," Link said, accepting the bag from her and slinging it over his shoulder. He turned to leave, but Miss Rebecca knelt in front of him and took him by the shoulders.

"You're okay with this, aren't you Link?" she said in a low voice. "You'll be perfectly safe, of course. He's registered, and he even works at the castle. Perfectly upright gentleman, by all accounts. But if you're worried, even a little bit-"

"I'm fine, Miss Rebecca," he said. She tilted her head, so he added "Really," for emphasis.

"Well, off you go then," she said. "I do hope this works out for you."

Their preparations complete, the small group walked off toward the trail through the forest. Rather, three of them walked; Fado skipped.

"Link, this is my wife Anju," Kafei said. "Anju, Link and…"

"Fado," she announced, jumping in front of all of them to perform an elaborate curtsey.

"A pleasure to meet you both," Anju said.

"So Link," Kafei said, as their path took them into the woods. "That was an interesting story you told back there. Where did you hear it?"

Link shrugged.

"I don't know. Miss Rebecca must've told it to us one day."

"Miss Rebecca never told that story," Fado said. "I would've remembered that. It's too sad."

"Whatever. It just came out when I started talking. It felt like the right thing to say," Link said.

"Well, whatever you did, you certainly manage to ensnare those girls back there," Kafei said. "If you aren't careful, they'll be demanding another game from you. Do you tell stories often?"

"Hey, who says you get to ask all the questions, huh?" Fado cut in. "What about you? What's your story, mister?"

"Well, you know our names. I'm an investigative accountant for the Treasury, Anju runs a hotel. What else do you want to know?"

"Why would you want to adopt anyone?" Fado asked.

"Fado, isn't that a bit rude?" Link asked.

"Oh, that's okay," Kafei said with a laugh. "We don't have any secrets; we just wanted to do something nice for someone."

"You mean you aren't-" Link blurted, then clamped his mouth shut before he said too much.

"Not as far as we know," Anju said. "I was born into a family with a very popular hotel, and I was lucky enough to meet Kafei. And of course his father is the city custodian."

"We thought we should share our good fortune with someone who might not get our opportunities," Kafei finished.

The couple was remarkably easy to talk to. Anju was every bit as straightforward as her husband, if somewhat more reticent. Link soon found himself telling them all about his life in the orphanage, his job at the coffee shop, and his dreams for college. Fado, naturally, said twice as much about herself, while she wasn't helping Link tell stories about himself.

"After the third family, I guess I just sort of gave up," Link said as they paused to eat the sandwiches Miss Rebecca packed. "Decided to focus on school instead."

"Well, we're certainly glad you gave us a chance," Kafei said. "In fact, I think we could start the trial as early as Tuesday, if you want to."

"Wait, what?" Link said.

"What? Fado echoed, more shrilly.

The trial was a one-month test period where the orphan lived with his potential family before being legally adopted. Investigators would drop by on occasion to ensure everything was in order, but otherwise it was just as good as a real adoption. Very few orphans who started the trial ever returned to the orphanage; not even Mido.

"What about me?" Fado pleaded. "You can't just take him."

"I'm sorry. We can only afford one," Anju said.

Her gaze turned from Anju and Kafei to Link. He lowered his eyes and picked at the grass.

"Link, tell them you can't. Tell them you're happier here. You can't just leave, you can't."

Her voice trembled as she spoke, and when he looked up, there were tears welling up in her eyes.

"Fado, this could be my last chance." He placed a hand on her shoulder, and she began sobbing. "No one else even wants to talk to me. I could have a family. Besides, I bet I could visit you sometimes. Maybe on one of the picnics over break."

She launched herself at him, enveloping him in a giant hug. He froze; no one had ever done that to him before.

"But we're best friends," she said.

Link wrapped his arms around her back, pulling the sobbing girl close. He didn't know what to say, so he rubbed her back like he'd seen an anxious mother do on TV once.

"I guess you can go, if you really want to," she whispered, once the crying stopped.

"We'll still be friends, you'll see," he assured her.

"That's what they all say," Fado muttered.

She was not wrong. They had both seen enough adoptions to know the truth of that.

"Well, shall we head back and start the paperwork?" Kafei suggested.

As much as it hurt to do so, Link nodded. He was going to have a family at last.

* * *

**A note on characters:** I will keep all characters in this story relatively close to their originals. Meaning, you won't be seeing Zelda and Hilda in the same high school, there won't be an evil-vice-principal Ganondrof, etc. You did almost get a sexy-math-teacher!Nabooru though. That would've been awesome.

I have a very good reason for using Fado instead of Saria here.

You may have noticed that this updated a week after the first chapter. Unfortunately, this is a mere coincidence. I guarantee no update schedule more rigorous than "whenever I feel like it."


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Link would have thought that he was dreaming, if he ever had dreams that weren't nightmares. He had never had his own room before. At first he had just roomed with Mido, but as the orphanage filled up, others moved in. They moved out just as quickly. He wasn't even sure he could remember how many roommates he had had altogether.

He now lay on his very own bed, which he had moved to the very center of his room. He had so much space! Mr. Timmons could have fit six, maybe eight other people in a room of this size. Link could probably even move completely into his closet and still have more space than he was used to.

His clothes, folded neatly, took up but a quarter of the ornate wood dresser that sat across from his desk. Beyond that, his ancient suitcase from the orphanage had contained only a couple notebooks and a small bag of he had distributed among his desk, his nightstand, and the second-floor bathroom as appropriate.

"All settled in, Link?" Anju's voice interrupted his thoughts. She stood halfway through the door, a hand resting upon its white frame. "We ought to go over the house rules downstairs, when you have a moment. We'll have brownies, too."

"Yes, ma'am!" Link replied, bouncing to his feet.

"Just 'Anju', please," she said. This was not the first time he had heard this phrase from her, and he had no doubt it would be some time before it was trained out of him. Mr. Timmons had been quite particular about manners.

Anju led him down a carpeted staircase and into the sitting room. Kafei rose from his leather armchair as they entered, setting down his book on an end table.

"Everything okay so far, Link?" he asked.

"Oh, yes s-" He cut himself off. Anju and Kafei exchanged an amused smile.

"It's great," he tried again.

"Excellent." Kafei took a seat and motioned for Link to do the same. He sank into a similar armchair across from Kafei, resting his hands upon the arms as if he were a king on a throne. Anju took a seat on the edge of the sofa, hands folded primly in her lap, posture erect.

"Now, I know no one likes to talk about rules, but we may as well get it over with, right?"

Link nodded. He was all too familiar with rules.

"Rule number one, then," Kafei said. "School comes first. Always. Our district's high school has a bit of a reputation for its difficulty, so you'll really have to focus."

"Hyrule High?" Link blurted. He had known, of course, that he had moved to an upper class neighborhood. Only a fool could have missed the increasingly ornate and individual houses that dotted the streets as Kafei drove him ever closer to his destination. His own house-well, Kafei's-was a three-layer construction of solid stone, complete with crenellated balconies outside the upper windows. But he had not quite made the connection to the school.

Hyrule High. The best of the best. It was said that Princess Zelda herself studied there. It would be full of kids who had been raised on tutors, who read novels like Twilit Meditations for fun.

Link suddenly felt very small. There was no way he could keep up; the only reason for his good grades at his old school was that he worked so much harder than everyone else. He could barely even remember what an absolute value was, let alone the intricacies of the royal line. How could he compete in a school where everyone already worked hard?

"Is there a problem?" Kafei asked. Some of his apprehension must have shown on his face.

Link couldn't meet his eyes. They had wanted someone smart. They had wanted someone to send to high school and show off. They would send him back.

"I'm not good at school," he mumbled at his feet. He clenched his hands on the armrests, waiting for the reprimand, the disappointment.

"No one's good at everything," Kafei said. "That doesn't mean it's not worth trying."

"But it's Hyrule High. I can't-"

"Have you been there before, to speak so certainlly?" For the first time, there was an edge to the man's tone, a passion that caused Link to shut his mouth before he could even think about it. "Failed a test, perhaps? Or maybe a teacher there told you never to attend."

Link didn't know what to say to that, so he said nothing.

"What Kafei's trying to say is that it's alright if you truly can't do this. If it doesn't work out, we'll find a different school for you. We just want you to try your best," Anju said. Link could have hugged her.

"That won't be a problem," Link said. "I always try my best."

"I knew I could count on you," Kafei said. "Now realize, Link: this rule goes both ways. If there's anything we can do to make your studying better, let us know. Anything. Anju's quite brilliant, and you can always feel free to ask her for help with something you don't understand.

"What we can give you right now is time. We have more money than we'll ever need, so there's no reason for you to waste your study time trying to earn more of it."

"But college-" Link protested. Kafei waved the concern off.

"We'll worry about that when it gets here. Let's focus on getting you into a good one for now, okay? If you really want to work, we can talk about it again once we find out how school's going for you."

A repeated beeping sound from another room interrupted them.

"Oh, the brownies!" Anju said. With a final smile at Link, she stood and rushed to the kitchen. Kafei watched her go, then leaned in closer to Link.

"Our unofficial rule is to try not to let Anju cook anything," he whispered. "Especially not for company."

She returned moments later, bearing a plate stacked high with walnut-topped brownie squares. Link and Kafei both took one, wrapping them in provided napkins. He tried not to look at it too carefully. They certainly smelled delicious, but Kafei's warning left him unsure.

He took a tentative bite. The crust had burnt brittle, but that did not stop the surge of chocolate from flooding his mouth as his teeth bit into the hard center. He had certainly had better brownies before, but none ever so vibrant with the fresh heat of the oven.

"This is wonderful," Link said when he swallowed.

"Don't encourage her," moaned Kafei. Anju slapped him playfully on the shoulder.

The only thing surprising about the remaining rules was how much freedom he had. He would have chores, of course: lawn care, cleaning, and the like. Nothing he wasn't already used to. He was to keep his room clean, be civil, and always be home by 9:30.

"If there is something keeping you out late, call," Kafei said at the end. "Do you have a cell phone?"

Link shook his head.

"One more thing for the list, then," Anju said.

Their shopping list had grown quite large by the time Anju took him out that afternoon. Despite his constant protests that he was fine with what he had, they each needed to make two trips from the car to carry his new possessions up to his room. He spent the rest of the afternoon before dinner hanging his new clothes in his closet, finding the best place to store the armload of notebooks, and setting up his new electronics.

Besides the cell phone, Anju had also bought him a laptop to do his schoolwork on. He had at first tried to get one of the cheaper ones in the store, but she had smiled and suggested a different one that cost well over two hundred rupees. Link did not know why he needed a computer that expensive, but neither did he want to offend her.

The next day, Anju and Kafei returned to their jobs. For the entire week before start of term, Link found himself in a rather enormous house with very little to do. He spent much of his time on his new computer, now connected to the Internet. He had never had more than fifteen or twenty minutes online at a time before, and he soon lost himself in the myriad of websites now available to him. Here, he could easily find information on the latest clothes, or strange new recipe. He could even do more research on dreams. There were also the weird sites, of course, including one devoted exclusively to artwork of historical Princess Zeldas.

He also taught himself to cook. When Anju and Kafei first came home to a fresh pot of stew, brewed from the scraps Link managed to scrounge from the refrigerator, they were quite pleased indeed.

Kafei seemed a good deal happier about this development than his wife.

Even so, the days grew tiresome. Back at the orphanage, even on the weekends, there had always been something to take care of. Someone skinned his knee, or two boys would get in a fight over a lollipop, and more often than not Link was left to clean up. In his new home, he could only spend so long at the computer before he grew restless, and there was not much left in the house to clean.

He found himself missing his four roommates. They were obnoxious, true, but anything would be better than the endless silence. Even when he had his laptop's speakers turned up, blaring music as loud as they could, he couldn't seem to break the sense of stillness that pervaded the house. Without the constant yelling, or clatter of children making noise, it seemed somewhat dead.

And then there were the dreams. Lying in his large bed, nothing but empty space all around him, he felt the darkness pressing in, as though it were trying to smother him. He buried his head under his pillow, and that helped somewhat, but he could not shake the feeling of those burning eyes watching him as he fell asleep. He even thought he could hear whispers, sometimes, when it was quiet enough.

And so when Kafei called him one afternoon to tell him that they were being taken out for dinner that evening, Link could not have been more relieved. Anything to escape the monotony of his new house.

By the time his new parents returned home, he was waiting in the lounge, changed into a freshly-ironed set of the dress clothes Anju had bought him.

"What's the occasion?" Link asked as they got into Kafei's car.

"One of your future classmates want to meet you before term starts," Kafei said.

"Why?" Link asked. Naturally, Kafei would have told his coworkers about the adoption, but it seemed odd that someone would go so far just to meet him. He was just another boy. School would start in just a few days anyway.

"I've stopped asking her that question," Kafei said with a chuckle.

"Who?"

"I'll let her introduce herself."

Link sat back in his seat, trying not to think too hard about it. He considered himself a patient person-he had spent some fourteen years waiting to be adopted, after all-but he was about to meet a new friend. Not only that, but she would be around his age, too! It would be very good to know someone before he started school. Maybe they could even study together.

His stomach fluttered in anticipation, but he shoved the excitement aside and forced himself to listen to his parents' conversation as they continued their trip.

"It's just really hard sometimes," Anju was saying. "Everyone just looks the same to me."

"I'm sure there's a way to train that," Kafei said. "You can tell some people apart, right? How do you do that? I mean, you never have any problem recognizing me."

"You have purple hair, darling."

At last they arrived at the restaurant. Steeling himself with a deep breath, Link emerged from the car. The sun was already making its way below the horizon, leaving the air slightly warm and dry.

"Ah, looks like they're already here," Kafei said. Link turned to see where he was looking. A girl trotted toward them, a stream of blonde hair trailing behind her. A rather imposing woman followed. She held herself firm as steel, and though she walked with a steady dignity, she still somehow managed to match the girl's hurried pace.

A Gerudo, he knew at once. He had never met one before, but it was evident from her tan skin and burning red hair. He wondered how many of the stories he had heard were true. Clearly not all; common wisdom was that Gerudo, even those who had settled in the city, traveled in packs. This one stood alone.

"It's Link, right?" the girl said as she approached. "It's so good to finally meet you. I'm Zelda."

Link took her extended hand. There was something familiar about her eager smile, her blue eyes. He had seen her in the coffee shop, he suddenly remembered. She had been staring at him.

Then he realized what she had just said. Her name was Zelda. The Princess's name was Zelda. Princess Zelda was rumored to attend Hyrule High. He was shaking hands with a princess.

The resemblance to the pictures in his history books was so obvious, now that he saw it. It must have been her smile that threw him off. The royal family was nearly always depicted was unyielding faces of stone, fixed with a timeless wisdom. Or perhaps it was just that he did not expect to see a princess of Hyrule wearing a skirt and a white blouse.

He was suddenly very aware of himself, of the thin, warm hand clasped in his, fingers brushing against his wrist. A million thoughts assaulted him at once. No one had told him how to talk to a princess before. Was he supposed to be kneeling? He'd read of people kissing great ladies' hands before; surely she could not be expecting that!

"Your highness," he forced himself to say. He cringed at the words as they came out in a faint squeak. Lowering his head, he began to drop to a knee, when the hand that he forgot he was still holding yanked him up.

"Not here," the Princess of Hyrule said, laughing. "That stuff's just for when I'm in my princess outfit."

Blood ran to his face. It seemed like everyone in the entire parking lot was staring at him. He tried to stammer out an apology, but Zelda just giggled, took his arm, and led him toward the restaurant.

"Come on, I'm hungry; let's eat," she said. "You do like noodles, don't you? The lasagna here is astounding."

When they entered, a waiter was standing ready to escort them to a central table, ornamented by a vase with a single white rose in it.

"And you're Anju, right?" Zelda said once they were all seated. "Kafei talks about you all the time."

Link whipped his gaze past his blushing mother to stare at Kafei. He thought he was an investigative accountant. How in the world-

"This is Nabooru," Zelda said, seeming not to notice Link's surprise. "Father is rather busy, so she takes care of me. She's basically an adoptive mother."

Her mouth snapped shut as the last word left it. She stared down at the menu, her cheeks flushed. Beside her, Nabooru scowled and muttered to herself.

"I'm sorry. I didn't-"

"It's fine," Link said, raising a hand to cut her off. "My parents are dead. Have been as long as I remember. I just don't get upset about it any more. Besides, Anju and Kafei are good people. Thinking about adoption makes me happy now."

Zelda smiled. "You are courteous to say so. But really, I do usually think things through better."

"Have you heard about the time she darted out into the middle of traffic?" Nabooru cut in.

"Nabooru!"

Link attempted to hide his grin with a sip of water, but he had no doubt he was failing miserably.

"It made sense at the time," Zelda protested, crossing her arms.

"I am sure that it did," Nabooru said. Beside her, Kafei raised his eyebrows.

The princess was remarkably easy to talk to. She always seemed to know just what to say to prompt an easy answer from him, and he soon found himself telling her all about life in the orphanage, and the games he'd play with Fado. He even forgot he was talking to a princess, at one point.

Link ended up ordering the lasagna that Zelda recommended, as did the princess herself. Nabooru had just a small bowl of pasta, garnished with neither sauce, nor cheese, nor anything else that he could see. An odd choice, but he decided not to ask about it. She wore a scowl, even as she ate, and Link winced at the thought of upsetting her.

"So, what does a princess's normal day look like?" Link asked when there was a lull in the conversation.

"Nabooru makes sure I stay busy," she said. "When I'm not in school, we just learn more about what's going on in the government. She's been teaching me to fight, too, in case something happens."

"Do you happen to have anything to do with the Gerudo delegate?" Kafei asked.

Zelda shook her head.

"I met her when she arrived, but Father thinks I'm still too young to really do anything yet. I think she just wants us to let more Gerudo immigrate each year."

"It must be nice to see another of your people in the castle," Link said to Nabooru.

"My people?" Her hand lowered her glass to the table as she stared at Link. He gulped despite himself. What had he said wrong? He was just trying to be polite.

"Nabooru," Zelda cautioned, resting a hand on her arm.

"I have been Hyrulean since I was five." This she said slowly, as if each word were a struggle to get out.

"The city Gerudo seldom get along with those of the desert," Zelda explained. "You've never met a Gerudo before, have you?"

Link shook his head.

"It's okay. There's plenty in our class. You'll learn soon enough."

"So, if the desert Gerudo don't like the immigrants, why do they want to come?" Link asked.

Nabooru rose abruptly. "Excuse me. I must relieve myself," she said.

"I'm sorry!" Link called as she strode off. "I didn't mean-"

Zelda reached across the table and placed a hand on his arm.

"It's not your fault. It was an honest question. Here, give me your e-mail. We'll get you up to speed before class starts."

When Nabooru returned two minutes later, she was just as talkative as she was before she left, which is to say, hardly at all. Link tried to ask about the high school, but the conversation had died, and nothing Link or Zelda did revived it.

"See you in class, then," Zelda said at the end of the meal.

"I look forward to it," Link said, glad that he could say so truthfully. It would be very good to have a friendly face among the sea of people so much smarter than he was.

That night, for the first time in months, he slept without dreams.


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

On the morning of his first day of school, Link sat in the kitchen and nibbled at some toast as he eyed the coffee maker in the corner. Seven o'clock was far too early for any sane person to be up, and for a moment he longed to sample the strange black liquid that so many people swore by.

He wouldn't, though. Hiis whole life, he had gotten by just fine without it, and he saw no reason why that should change. He would just grin and bear it, as they said. Or perhaps 'grimace,' in his case. He was never really one for smiling.

As he finished up the rest of his toast, he turned his gaze back to the window and waited. His backpack sat in the corner, its contents checked once the night before, and again this morning. His shoes were tied, his hair was brushed, and he was ready to learn. Well, at least as ready as he ever got, anyway. All that was missing was his ride.

Kafei had left for work some thirty minutes ago, and he did not even want to think about how early Anju had left. They'd arranged for another student who lived nearby to come and pick him up on her way to school. He made sure he had a clear view of the entire street so he would not miss her.

As it turned out, he heard rather than saw her approach. He had taken a moment to turn to the sink and wash his plate when the the squeal of tires announced her arrival. He finished wiping the plate clean, and then, slinging his backpack over his shoulder, he walked outside to greet his ride.

The passenger door of the sleek black sports car opened as he approached. The driver was a rather surly-looking upperclassman. Upperclasswoman, rather. He couldn't make out much of her features due to her large sunglasses. Her short, blue hair stood out though, as did her faint odor of bubblegum.

"Morning, sunshine," the driver drawled. "Irene's Taxi here. That'll be five rupees."

He stared at her. Kafei said nothing about a fee. And he had no pocket money. He hadn't seen the need to bring any to school. Was she seriously expecting payment for this? It was supposed to have been a favor.

"Just get in," Irene said with a sigh. "Are you always this boring, or are you just speechless from my stunning looks?"

Link chose to focus on entering the vehicle and closing the door rather than giving her an answer.

"Guess it's the boring one, then. Way to make a girl feel special, kid. Looks like you're not getting the flattery discount today."

"By the Goddesses, kid," she continued as soon as he started to respond. "If you even think about looking at me like a wounded chipmunk, I swear you're gonna hear about it every day until the Life Festival. Chill. I wouldn't charge for a ride."

Link found it remarkably hard to 'chill' in the face of Irene's rather abrasive greeting, but he sat back in the leather seat anyway.

"You coordinate your hair with Kafei?" he tried.

She lolled her head over to stare at him as the car started accelerating down the street.

"Don't go into stand-up, kid."

Link did not feel the urge to speak for the rest of the drive. Irene, for her part, seemed content to listen to the obnoxious faux-metal hit song blasting from the radio.

"Try not to screw up your first day, kid," she said by way of farewell when they arrived at the school's parking lot.

"Nice to meet you too," Link beamed. Irene's glasses shaded her eyes, but she more than made up for it, rolling her entire head in exasperation as she left the car.

This was not the first he had seen of the school. He had gone, briefly, for orientation on the day after his dinner with Zelda. Even so, the splendor of it was still a little bit shocking. Out in front of the building, there was a large fountain, centered around a life-sized statue of the Goddess Hylia. The perfectly trimmed lawn about the building sported the most vibrant shade of green he'd ever seen.

Even the students themselves seemed more polished. Link saw none of the baggy pants or stained T-shirts so common at his previous school. Few people, if any, slouched, and there seemed to be an air of purposefulness pervading the environment.

He saw his first group of Gerudo on his way to drop off his spare notebooks in his locker. A handful clustered together nearby, laughing at something he couldn't make out. True to the stereotype, there was not a Hylian among them.

Zelda had cautioned him that the Gerudo would not be good prospects for his first friends. He wondered why. To him, they seemed no more closed off than any of the others in the school. Here, a cluster of athletic boys in polo shirts turned a corner. There, girls gossipped with each other as they lounged by the stairwell. Somewhere, he was sure, Irene would be enjoying her own clique of sassy car enthusiasts. Or whatever she was into. He doubted any of these groups would be particularly accepting of him.

Link shrugged and continued to his locker. Zelda must know what she was talking about.

He arrived to his first class, Chemistry, five minutes before the start. He searched for Zelda among the entering students, but apparently she did not have that class. Fortunately, the first day was quite light; after an hour of administrivia he emerged with only five pages of reading for homework.

It was his next class, Algebra, that worried him the most. In the excitement of the past week, he had completely forgotten about reviewing for it. Math was the one subject where falling behind was disastrous, so hopefully they would not move too fast.

The teacher was a slender gentleman. He stood before the class, hands clasped behind his back, only the hint of a smile on his face.

"Good morning, class. My name is Mr. Owlan. Welcome to Algebra. I will not waste your time with a definition of the word. We will just say we are continuing your math education, yes?" His soft, baritone voice carried surprisingly well in the large classroom.

"I will be trying something new this semester. Find a partner. Choose wisely, for you will be together for the rest of the semester. I cannot make you study together, but you will sit with each other, and group work will make up a significant part of your grade. You have two minutes."

Fantastic. Now he would be an embarrassment not just to his class, but to his designated partner. There was nothing in the whole world, he decided, that could not be made worse by the addition of group work.

Around him, people were already busy pairing up. Most chattered happily with their new partners as they edged their chairs closer together. The one exception was the Gerudo who slumped in her chair next to him. She seemed to be the only one in the entire class.

"Um… partners?" he asked her.

"Why the hell not?" she muttered without moving.

"I'm Link," he offered, trying to put some happiness in his tone, though it had all long since drained out of him.

"Jamaelah," she replied. "New kid, right?"

Link nodded.

"You any good at math?" she asked.

"Nope."

"Of course not," she sighed.

By then, Owlan was clapping his hands for everyone's attention. The conversations died down as all turned their attention back to the teacher.

They began with a lightning drill of arithmetic. When Mr. Owlan pressed a button, twenty problems were projected upon the wall. Above the questions, a timer began counting down from two minutes. Link did well at first, and for a brief moment he was proud of his work over the summer. But as soon as the negative numbers, the rules of arithmetic fled from his mind. He found himself lost in a sea of minuses and plusses, and he had no idea where to put them.

Beside him, Jamaelah moved her pen calmly across the paper, her face showing nothing. Link was not even halfway done when she dropped her pen and fell back in her chair.

All told, he managed to complete twelve problems. As the answers revealed themselves on the screen, he saw to some relief that he had managed to get most of them right. Must have been luck, he figured.

Then they moved on to question-and-answer.

"Who can tell me which operations are associative?" Mr. Owlan asked the class. "How about you? Link, is it?"

He could feel everyone looking at him. Here was the moment where he made his impression. Here was where he became either bright, or stupid.

"All of them," he said with as much confidence as he could muster. Link saw from the twitch in the man's face that he had gotten it wrong. A couple snickers broke out throughout the room, but Mr. Owlan spoke again before they grew too loud.

"Perhaps your partner can redeem you. Jamaelah?"

"Addition and multiplication," she intoned.

She wasn't even trying, he realized, as Mr. Owlan praised her and moved on to his next victim. He must've somehow gotten paired with the smartest kid in the room. He supposed he ought to be grateful; he couldn't possibly hurt her grade too much, and maybe she could even teach him some tricks to get by. But he couldn't help feeling that the girl was constantly judging him. Naturally, he was failing to live up to her expectations.

At the end of class, Jamaelah was on her feet and moving toward the door before the bell had even finished ringing. Link hurriedly threw his books into his bag. He had to catch her before she left the room. They were partners after all; they should at least exchange phone numbers.

A hand on his shoulder stopped him.

"Trust me, you want as little to do with that as possible, mate," a voice said. "Whores, all of them."

Link turned to see a round-faced boy grinning down at him. He heard no venom in his voice. He had said it casually, as though merely passing on common knowledge.

"You're the new kid, right?" the boy said. "The one Mr. Dotour adopted? My name's Mike," he said, extending a hand.

He certainly seemed friendly enough. No one else had tried to talk to him that day. Like as not, he was just trying to help. Link certainly didn't feel any pressure. Mike stood back an appropriate distance, arm outstretched, looking the very image of a curious young sophomore.

And yet…

Whores, all of them.

This was not a person whose friendship he desired. Let him spread rumors. Let him snigger. Saying nothing, Link shouldered his backpack and made his way to his next class.

Old Hylian was not nearly as bad as Algebra had been. Here was a subject where everyone was a novice, and he was glad to start out on an equal footing. But then in Literature, everyone else had had summer reading, and he found himself staring out the window as the class discussed some ancient text he'd never even heard of before.

Then, at last, it was time for lunch. He felt more than the weight of his bag leaving him as he dropped it off at his locker. An entire forty-five minutes to not think about anything. It would be wonderful.

He sat by himself with his meal of roast beef and steamed carrots, but he didn't mind. He found himself ever less fond of his classmates as the day progressed. They'd all be whispering about him by now, he knew. He'd spent the entire morning stumbling and sputtering through material that he didn't understand. And so far the nicest person he'd met had been Irene.

His spirits lifted when Zelda sat down across from him.

"So how's the first day?" she asked.

"It's school," Link said, determined that the princess would not hear him complain.

"Is Mr. Owlan doing that partner thing to you too? I mean, I'm really excited to get to work with my best friend, but I just feel there'll be a bit more work this way, you know?"

Link told her about Jamaelah. "Bit of a bad attitude, but she's really smart," he concluded. "I don't know why people say bad things about her."

"Bad things?" Zelda prompted.

"Well, after class, Mike called her…" He glanced down at his food. That was not proper language to use in front of a princess, but there was no other word for it.

"Let me guess, a whore?" Zelda finished for him.

Link nodded.

"Sometime I just want to lock up everyone here in a room with Nabooru for a few days," she said, sighing.

"Would that help?"

"It would be fun."

Their mood thus darkened, they continued their meal in silence. But Link was not satisfied. After a few moments, he blurted: "But why? I don't get it. What problem do people have with the Gerudo? The last war was forever ago."

Zelda chewed on her lip for a moment, placing her fork carefully on her tray.

"The Gerudo have not been too eager to fit in," she said at last. "An all female race, remember, and they don't marry."

As Link opened his mouth to ask the obvious question, Zelda raised her hand to stop him and continued.

"Think about it. For centuries, the only man among them has been their king. With the exception of the odd honorary member or two, of course. But after what happened with their last king, the devastation that followed, their near extinction… Can you imagine what the thought of bringing a man into their household must seem like?"

"So, what, they just 'hook up' with a Hylian, and then… raise the child among themselves?" Link said, struggling to complete the thought.

Zelda nodded. "Which in a Hylian culture…" she prompted.

"... would make them whores."

"I wouldn't let Nabooru hear you phrase it like that, if I were you," Zelda teased.

Link forced a smile.

"Well, obviously, I wasn't trying to say-"

"I get it, Link, I do," Zelda interrupted with a giggle.

As it turned out, they had the next two classes together. She accompanied him to his locker en route to Mythology, where they sat through a tiresome discussion on the subtle nuances dividing myth from history.

Finally they came to gym class. He was never as excited about gym as the actual jocks always were, but he had to admit its appeal. You got points just for trying, and there were no wrong answers. Never mind that there weren't any actual questions in the first place. It was just a solid hour of brute-forcing everything.

He could do brute force.

They started off the class with a one-mile run. Though a couple boys started off at a sprint, Link soon took the lead, savoring the rush of air across his face. The stress of the day peeled off as he sped around the small track, leaving all his problems behind him along with all the unsavory people.

It ended much too quickly. After four laps, he reluctantly stopped at the side of the track as he waited for the others to finish.

"Good job, Link," the teacher said. "Have you considered trying out for track?"

"I need the time for studying," Link said.

"Ah. Pity."

Soon a crowd formed at the track's side as more and more students completed the mile. He thought he heard someone mutter "So he is good at something," but he tried to ignore it. Besides, he didn't even know they were talking about him. It could easily have been someone else.

Then Zelda staggered to halt in front of him, face covered in a sheen of sweat.

"Wow, I couldn't believe how fast you ran that," she said in between large, gasping breaths.

"Yeah, that was super awesome! How come I haven't seen you before?" said a girl to her side. If he hadn't known that Zelda was an only child, he would have thought them sisters. She wore the same bubbly smile and was only maybe an inch shorter. She had a braid of brown hair instead of Zelda's blond, though.

"That's because he hasn't been here before, Desi," Zelda explained. "Remember the kid Mr. Dotour adopted that I told you about?"

The other girl glanced upward for a few seconds before finally her face brightened and her excited smile returned once more.

"Oh yeah, I remember! Lee, right?"

"Link," he corrected.

"Desiree," she replied, pumping his hand up and down. "But you can call me Desi. Everyone else does. 'Desiree' just has too many syllables, you know?"

"Hey, maybe we could go running together sometime," Zelda said. "Nabooru always says I need to be faster. I bet a running partner would make training more enjoyable." As she talked, Desi stood slightly behind her, screwing up her face and making gagging sounds.

"Oh stop that. Running's good for you," Zelda said, turning to the girl.

"Yeah, well so's asparagus and chores," Desi said, and stuck out her tongue.

In a rare burst of courage, Link replied: "I'll run with you, if you help me study."

"Deal," she said, and they shook on it. "Start Friday? Nabooru can drive us to the castle after school. I know this awesome trail right nearby."

"Friday," Link agreed. It was the perfect end to a miserable day. He was relieved to know that as bad as things got, he would always have Zelda's company to cheer him up. Zelda's, and perhaps her friend's too. He may just survive Hyrule High yet.

* * *

**A/N: **Confession time: Irene is the entire reason this story exists. I saw her in ALBW and thought "Hey, it would be cool if there was a modern fic where she was Link's ride to school." And here we are.

I wanted to include more canon characters in this chapter, but Desiree got set up three chapters ago, and I couldn't think of anyone mean enough for Mike's role. I know Groose is a jerk and all, but I couldn't fit him in what I needed for this.


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Friday could not come fast enough. Despite the light first day, Link soon found himself almost buried in homework. He often found himself working all the way up to the time he had to go to bed. Anju was able to provide some help, but she went to bed even earlier than he, and he was hesitant to disturb her any more than he had to. The smile she wore when she came home from work each day seemed strained somehow, as if force upon a tired face that was not meant to bear it.

The load was not yet so great that he had to stop making dinner though, and hopefully it never would be. While he had no doubt that Kafei would surely be okay with him taking the extra time for homework if that was what it took, he felt some obligation to make his new parents' lives more pleasant where he could. He had also come to enjoy cooking. There was something mindless about the task that allowed him to relax, and there were few feelings as satisfying as seeing a useful creation come together in a matter of minutes.

On Thursday evening, he had made quite a large pot of lentil soup. There was enough left over for dinner on Friday, and perhaps even a healthy snack over the weekend. He therefore sat next to Desi in the back of Nabooru's car guilt-free as the Gerudo drove them all to the park after school. His backpack with the weekend's homework was locked safely in the trunk, and with luck it would be hours before he next had to think about it. An afternoon of freedom, running, and adventure awaited him. And of course, spending time with Zelda was always pleasant.

"Are you sure you're okay with letting us run on our own?" Zelda said to Nabooru as she brought the car to a stop in front of a trail. "If you're going to have an aneurysm or something, we really wouldn't mind having you come along."

"Yes, princess, you are very cute," Nabooru grumbled. Then she turned in her seat to look back at Link. "If she tries to do something stupid, you have my permission to stop her, and to mock her relentlessly."

Following Zelda's example, Link left his phone and house key in the door's cupholder, then exited the vehicle.

"Five o'clock," Nabooru called out the window. "You have a watch, so no excuses for being late."

Once she had gone, they began stretching.

"I can't believe you guys are running for fun," Desi complained. "Just after gym class? Really?"

"It was only tennis," Zelda said, stretching down to her toes. "That hardly counts."

"I just don't think it should be legal to have to sweat more than twice a day."

"You don't have to come if you don't want to," Zelda said.

"Oh, no way. You aren't losing me that easy. Come on, let's run," she said, and set off down the trail.

Zelda glanced at Link, shrugged, and trotted after. Link followed, and soon the two had caught up to Desi. They followed the trail up a hill, dotted with all the other people enjoying the weather. As the hill leveled out, the trail ran into a forest, where the leaves had just begun to turn to gold. Soon they became immersed in the forest's embrace, the trees above filtering the harsh sunlight. If they shared this forest with anyone else, that was not known to Link. To him, there was only the trail, the trees, and the two girls running beside him.

The pace was slower than he would have preferred. Each time he let his legs truly go free, he had to reign them in and wait for Desi. Even so, he was running! He was no longer confined to a small, circular track, and his only restriction was that of time.

"How are you so dang happy about this?" Desi asked him. Link just laughed and kept on smiling.

They stopped for a rest around half an hour in. Desi collapsed down against a tree, but Zelda remained standing and stretched some more. Link joined her. His calves felt rather tight from their slow pace. Once Desi was ready, they set off again.

Their next stop came far too soon. Shortly after they began, Zelda paused in front of a fork in the trail.

"Do you remember which way we came from?" she asked.

Link ignored Desi's grumblings and slowly turned his gaze about himself. In truth, lost in the run, he had forgotten to pay attention to any landmarks. Even when he stood at each branch in the trail and looked back toward the way they had just come, he saw nothing familiar.

"Honestly, no. But if I had to guess, I'd say we take the right fork here."

"Works for me," Zelda said. "If things start to look unfamiliar, we can always double back."

"It's a forest. Everything looks the same," Desi said, but she started running just the same.

The right fork did not look familiar, it turned out, and neither did the left one. Five o'clock came and went. Eventually, Link had to conclude that they were completely lost. Desi's gripes were near-constant now, and even Link was getting discouraged. It was hard to tell his legs to run when he knew that they might be carrying him in the wrong direction.

Zelda alone seemed unperturbed.

"We're getting nowhere," she said, stopping. "Let's stop and think about this for a bit. Running around is only going to make us more tired."

Link wiped some sweat from his forehead and rested against a tree. He was getting quite thirsty. They should at least brought some water with them. He did not enjoy the thought of holding a bottle of water as he ran, but it would certainly be better than getting dehydrated.

"Do you have any ideas, Link?" Zelda asked.

Link shook his head. He had had an idea, in truth, but he was not quite ready to admit that the idea had been _'let's take every path in the forest until we find the one that leads out.'_ It might work as a worst-case scenario - the forest couldn't possibly be that large - but he did not think that was the sort of idea Zelda was looking for.

"Nothing at all? Please, anything you can think of might help. You have to have some idea. Is there some landmark you remember that we could navigate from? Any familiar sounds?"

He tried to think, for her sake, but Desi was right. Everything in the forest looked the same. He couldn't understand why she expected him to find their way out. And she kept looking at him, like he was just supposed to magically know what to do. Desi could think just as well as he could, he was sure. Why not ask her?

Link shook the useless thoughts from his head and glanced once more about himself. The trees stood just as tall and wild as they did everywhere else. When he looked hard enough, he started to see that the leaves might be a bit lighter here, but that hardly meant anything.

"Ooh, we could make one of those divine rods," Desi said. "You know, those sticks that look like a 'Y' and find stuff."

Link then understood why the other girl had not been asked for ideas.

"I think I have a better plan," Zelda said. "Here, give me a boost up to that branch."

Obliging, Link made a step for her with his hands. He had done the same for Fado many times, but Zelda proved to be a good deal heavier, and he ended up having to support her with his knee as she reached up for the branch above.

He tried not to grunt as she lifted herself. For a moment, her shoes dug into his skin, and then her dangling feet were swinging toward his face. He back-pedalled swiftly. He did manage to avoid her feet, but then he tripped on a root and fell down on his back.

By the time he regained his feet, Zelda was already several feet above the first branch and moving steadily higher. He resisted the urge to call out 'Be careful.' That would only distract her.

Then she disappeared among the upper branches. For a few breathless moments, the forest was completely still. Even Desi had ceased her fidgeting to look up at the canopy. Link thought he could see some leaves rustling where Zelda had disappeared, but it was too high to be sure.

"I think I can see the parking lot from here," Zelda called.

"Which way is it?" Desi asked.

"Hang on. I'm coming down."

The princess emerged from the treetop, scampering down from limb to limb as easily as he descended the stairs from his room each morning.

"Catch me," she laughed as she reached the bottom branch.

"What?" Link asked. Even as he spoke, he stepped forward without thinking, readying himself to intercept her fall. Before he could pause to wonder how he would actually do that, she dropped down. Two sneakers collided with his chin, then one hundred some pounds of princess plopped on top of him, driving him to the ground.

Zelda started laughing so hard she bent over double, strands of sweaty blonde hair sticking to Link's face.

"That was a _joke_," she said, once the laughter subsided. "You weren't actually supposed to catch me.

"It wasn't very funny," Link muttered. That had hurt. He was lucky he hadn't lost a tooth or broken something. His wrist, in particular, had gotten trapped between their bodies on impact and was now sending alarming messages up to his brain.

"Are you two planning on getting up anytime soon?" Desi asked.

Zelda rolled over - digging her knee deeper into his thigh as she shifted her weight - and pushed herself to her feet. Link lay there for a moment massaging his wrist, but Zelda put a stop to that when she grabbed his hand and yanked him up to his feet.

"Oh, stop being dramatic. I didn't fall _that_ far. Come on! The parking lot's over there," she said, making her way off the path, toward a thick patch of brush.

"Zelda, the trail doesn't even go that way."

"It will," she said, pushing deeper into the vegetation. "We just have to find it first."

Link sighed and followed, Desi trailing behind him.

"You know, when Nabooru said that thing about you doing something stupid-"

"Trust me, you haven't even come close to seeing stupid yet," Zelda said without turning.

"She's right, you know," Desi said, coming abreast of him. "Not even close."

"That is not an encouraging thought."

As carefully as he tried to pick through the sharp branches and brambles that now surrounded him, he could not keep from getting scratched. They raked at his skin, slowly at first, but as Zelda got farther and farther ahead, he increased his pace and the scratches grew more frequent.

"Do you know what poison ivy looks like?" he called to her. "Because I don't, and I'd rather not have it ruin my weekend."

"Just don't step on anything too plant-y," she replied.

"That doesn't-"

"Just keep on walking, dude," Desi advised. "We can kill her on the ride home."

Just as Zelda had said, they soon emerged from the forest. The parking lot was just at the foot of the hill they stood on. Link was covered in scratches, a couple of which even oozed blood. Sweat glued his shirt to his chest, a blister was forming on his foot, and his stomach growled in annoyance. Despite all this, the sight of Nabooru storming up the hill almost sent him running back into the forest.

"What time is it?" she said. Her voice was no louder than conversation level, but she spoke with an intensity that demanded attention.

"Look, I know we're a bit late, but-" Zelda began.

"What time is it?"

"Five forty-five."

Nabooru nodded, saying nothing, looking at each in turn. Link wished she'd just shout. Her silence was suffocating.

"I was moments from calling the Hylian Guard to comb the forest for you."

"We got lost," Zelda said. The bold, adventurous girl who had led them straight through a thicket of brambles was replaced by someone much meeker, looking at her feet as she mumbled excuses.

"You got lost," Nabooru repeated, raising her eyebrows.

"I thought we'd be able to find our way faster, but…"

For a brief second, Zelda's gaze darted back toward Link. Unwilling, he took a step back. Was she about to blame him for this? But before she could say anything else, Nabooru spoke again.

"We can discuss this later. Come, let us return to the castle. Your friends will be hungry, I think," she said. The anger had passed like a spring shower, leaving only the trace of harshness that seemed ever-present in the Gerudo's voice.

Link and Desi exchanged a confused glance, then followed Nabooru and Zelda to the waiting car. They all squished together in the back, and Zelda handed out the bottles of water that had been placed there sometime during their run. The ride home passed in tense silence, but as soon as they entered the castle and Nabooru left them ("to preserve my sanity," she grumbled), Zelda and Desi began chattering again.

It was a struggle to pay attention to them, distracted as he was by the castle's interior. He had been to Hyrule Castle more than once on a field trip, but the tours had shown little more than the throne room, the council chambers, and other such important locations. But (after a painless frisking by security) Zelda brought him straight to the heart of the building, where the Royal Family lived.

Though the exterior and the state rooms had maintained much of their traditional stylings - great crenelated walls of stone, guards with spears and metal armor outside the gates, hallways lit only by torches and sunlight - the room they now stood in was fully modern. An array of lights flickered on as they entered, and there was an intercom system build into the wall which Zelda used to request a plate of sandwiches.

Minutes later, a maid clad in a simple faded-red skirt and blouse wheeled in a cart laden with perhaps half a dozen sandwiches. At a glance, Link could see tuna salad, ham, and even peanut butter.

Zelda thanked the maid with a warm smile, and then she and Desi grabbed sandwiches and began eating. Link was more hesitant. He slowly picked up one containing chicken breast and crisp lettuce between two thick slabs of homemade white bread and turned it in his hands.

"If there's nothing here to your liking, I'm sure we could find something else," the maid said.

Link almost jumped.

"No, no, it's not that at all. I'm sure it's delicious. It's just…" He paused. He wasn't quite sure how to explain himself.

"You're uncomfortable being served like this, aren't you?" Zelda said.

Link nodded, relieved that she understood.

"It just feels wrong. I mean, I didn't do anything to deserve something like this."

"Susan, why don't you tell Link what you were doing before I called?"

"Counting the tiles in the children's dining room," the maid said, pulling her lips together in a tight smile. "That was after I polished everything in the first-floor study for the third time today."

"And - if you don't mind, of course - what were you doing before coming to serve at the castle?" Zelda said.

Susan glanced down at her feet, and for a moment Link feared the princess had gone too far. Then the maid lifted her head and spoke.

"Unemployed. Couldn't find work for a year. I'd always dreamed of being something more than a maid, of course. What girl doesn't? But it's work, it doesn't follow me home, and as I'm sure you've discovered, Master Link, chatting with Her Highness is always a pleasure."

"We could easily get by on half the staff we have," Zelda said. "A quarter, if we did things like make our own beds and choose our own clothes. But it creates jobs. Same thing with the military. Why do you think we keep it so large? We haven't even seen a battle since the Farona Insurrection over a century ago."

Link looked down at his sandwich. He did feel somewhat better about the pampering service now, but he doubted that it would ever truly sit easily with him. He had always been taught to do things for himself. Being lazy was a flaw in character. But he could see Zelda's point.

"I get a little weirded out by it too, sometimes," she said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sure Nabooru could tell you all about the fuss I made when they started trying to make my bed for me. But we all have to make sacrifices." She winked at him and giggled.

He wasn't sure how he felt about her humor, but at last he put the sandwich in his mouth. He had not realized how hungry he was until he tasted the soft bread. He consumed it in seconds.

"I'm so glad our food pleases you so much," Susan said, grinning.

He had one more - peanut butter this time - while Zelda and Desi split an egg salad sandwich. Once they were finished, Zelda dismissed Susan and took Link on a tour of the castle.

If Link's new room was large, then the castle's rooms were positively cavernous. The towering shelves in the library were far enough apart that four could comfortably walk abreast down the aisles. They peered through a window at a giant room where a veritable farm of people working at desks, typing furiously, making calls, and taking notes. Even Zelda's study, crammed full of bookcases, posters, and kitten plushies seemed remarkably open and uncluttered.

"I'd show you the throne room, but I think father's still meeting with the Gerudo emissary," Zelda said.

Their tour ended in the center of the castle, in the small chapel where the Royal Family paid homage to the three golden goddesses. There were shrines elsewhere to the light spirits, the Goddess Hylia, the storm gods, and others, but at the heart of it all the austere triune of Din, Nayru, and Farore reigned supreme.

Link marveled at the perfect rows of gently-burning candles, the flaming arms of Din that seemed to tie the ceiling together, the cowled monks that stood unmoving in small enclaves hewn in the room's three sides. The air felt cleaner here, somehow, as if he had stepped into a bubble set apart from the world. The soft patter of his feet on the hard, wooden floor echoed throughout the chamber. He winced that he had so disturbed the seemingly perfect stillness, but Zelda kept walking, and so he followed, clacking his feet all the way.

"Have you ever played an organ before, Link?" she whispered.

He shook his head.

"Mr. Timmons bought a keyboard for the orphanage once, but it didn't take long to realize that that was a bad idea."

"Give it a try," she offered.

He looked around. All the monks were steadily gazing straight forward, as if completely oblivious to their presence. Still, he could not shake the feeling that someone was watching him, that he was intruding on another's home.

"The goddesses delight in song," Zelda said. "It's okay."

As they were speaking, Desi climbed on the organ bench and began to play a ponderous tune with a single hand. Even she seemed rather somber in this place. Her face was a vacant mask; her only expression was the tip of her tongue protruding slightly from her lips as her hand measured its way across the keyboard.

"Show Link how to play," Zelda told her when the girl had finished.

Desi smiled and patted the bench next to her. His anxiety evaporated as soon as he sat down and saw the mammoth instrument before him, its pipes running up the wall, through the ceiling, and out of sight.

The song she had played opened with a big leap up the keyboard. The first time he played it, he had to lift his hand completely off the instrument, breaking the sound and ruining the melodious spell that had begun to enchant him. Then Desi showed him how he could hold a key down with one finger while he positioned his hand to strike the next. He had to stretch quite a bit to reach, and it was made even more awkward by having to use his right hand, but he soon achieved at least some manner of flow between the first three notes.

He could not say how long he spent at the organ. Long enough, at least, for his bottom to grow sore, and his back stiff. Desi was patient with him, slowly coaching him through the rest of the song. Sometimes Zelda chimed in with advice. "Try using your thumb for that note instead," or "It would help if you kept your wrist straight." No one ever spoke louder than a whisper.

Progress came slowly, but eventually the two girls agreed that he was ready to play it through without their help. Desi scooted off the bench, and he faced down the organ alone. As he struck the first key, a wave of calm engulfed him. Somehow, he knew that he would play it right. He knew that it would be perfect. When his fingers traversed the keyboard, it was as if they were gripping the hand of an old friend. He felt an energy guiding him, soothing his hands, pouring from him into the organ, and from the organ, out its pipes into the vast universe.

When he was finished, he released a breath he did not know he had been holding and lowered a shaking hand into his lap. No one spoke.

The next sound he heard was a clap of thunder, followed by a torrent of rain pouring down upon the roof. Then, a laugh erupted from behind him. He turned to see Zelda, hands raised high above her head, her whole body trembling in laughter.

"What's so funny?" he asked.

"You played the Song of Storms," Desi said, her face slightly pale.

A flash of lightning through the stained-glass windows nearly blinded him as another roar of thunder announced the heavens' fury.

Mr. Owlan would probably say something about a large sample space. Miss Rebecca would smile politely and say, "That's very interesting, dear. I didn't know you had musical talent." Even he wanted to tell himself that he was being silly. People did not just conjure storms.

But he had felt something. Every part of him wanted to call it stupid, but he had felt a call to the universe in the song he had played. This was no coincidence. He had sung the Song of Storms to the goddesses, and they had responded with the fiercest onslaught he had known in years.

* * *

**A/N: **I just realized that my em-dashes have not been displaying correctly on this site. I apologize for any confusion this may have caused, and I will go back and edit whenever I stop feeling lazy about it.

In the future, an em-dash will be denoted as a hyphen surrounded by a single space on each side: " - " Which isn't right at all, but whatever. If you know of a better way to handle it, let me know, yeah?


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

"Link, tell them you can't. Tell them you're happier here. You can't just leave, you can't."

Fado's voice trembled as she spoke, and when he looked up, there were tears welling up in her eyes.

"Fado, this could be my last chance." Link placed a hand on her shoulder, and she began sobbing. "No one else even wants to talk to me. I could have a family. Besides, I bet I could visit you sometimes. Maybe on one of the picnics over break."

She launched herself at him then, little fists pummeling his chest in a desperate fury.

"Go then!" she screeched. "Get out. You never belonged here anyway, you loser."

He staggered backward, more from the venom in his voice than the onslaught. He tried to think, tried to see why she was so angry, but his thoughts were a murky sludge.

"Yeah, leave," said the two girls beside Fado. They had names, he was sure of it, but when he tried to focus there was only pain. His head throbbed, pulsing with the beat of his heart.

He ran away, but the farther he ran, the louder the jeers grew. He looked back over his shoulder to see the three girls standing there, just as close as when he had started running. He put on a new burst of speed, but when he looked back in front of himself, Miss Rebecca was standing there, hands on her hips.

"What are you doing here?" she said.

Link tried to focus. He didn't even know where 'here' was. He looked around for some clue, but all he saw was a canvass of black, and a crowd of orphans gathering up behind him.

"You will leave my children alone," she commanded.

"But it's me!" he tried to say, but she had vanished.

A pebble collided with his head, toppling him to the ground. As he tried to stand, another impacted his ribs. He pushed himself to his knees and saw Fado standing above him, a slingshot in her hands.

"We don't want you," she said, and the others chorused their agreement.

Link ran, and this time it worked. He still heard their roar behind him, and pebbles whizzed past his head, but as he added more and more speed he slowly began to outdistance them.

Then, in the distance, a structure began to take form. At first, it appeared as merely a small orb hovering over the ground, but as he approached it expanded until a great temple of stone stood before him. Its shape changed each time he looked at it, but he knew that he would be safe within.

Breaking into a frantic sprint, he bolted up the front steps and through the massive door that marked the entrance. He collapsed to his knees, panting. When he looked back, all the children who had pursued him were gone. There was nothing outside, only a deep blackness that it hurt to look at.

There was no sun outside, nor torches or lights within the temple, yet even so, he could see. He stood amid a circle of seven altars, each emblazoned with a pattern he could not recognize. He looked down and saw that he had a mighty sword, double-edged and fearsome, and dripping with blood.

"Rest, Link. You are safe here as any man can be. For where the Sages stand as one, no evil may penetrate."

Zelda's voice resounded through the chamber, seeming to come from both everywhere and nowhere at once.

"There are no Sages," he heard himself say. "There are but seven coffins of stone, empty for an age, and forgotten."

Then, from a door high above him, the Princess of Hyrule emerged. Her face pale and

solemn as an edifice as marble, she descended the spiral stairs. Where she stepped, light sprang forth, surrounding her in a sparkling aura.

She made not a sound on her descent. Link heard neither the clack of her shoes upon the stone floor, nor the rustling of her white dress, nor even her breath. Silently, she approached him and took his hand.

"Then we will stand ourselves, and woe betide any who threaten this sanctuary," she said.

But even as she spoke, the temple began to rumble. Link raised his sword in front of him, preparing to defend himself, but he knew somehow that this was a foe that would not fall to mere swordplay.

With a crash, all the windows collapsed inward, and gallon upon gallon of sand poured through. In seconds, it had spread to every corner of the room, and it piled steadily higher.

Hand-in-hand, Link and Zelda fled to the entrance, the doorway that opened into the black abyss outside, but their pace was slow. The sand had risen past their ankles, and it moved with a force so great it threatened to knock them from their feet.

"The sword! You have to drop the sword. It's slowing us down," Zelda pleaded, but he could no more let it go than he could let his arm fall from his body.

Still the sand continued to pour in. When it rose past his boots, it burned the exposed skin of his calf. He stumbled, flinging out his hands to catch himself as he collided with the ground. He fought to raise himself up, to keep his head above the engulfing flow.

Zelda tugged at his arm, but the sand had him. His hands were stuck to the ground, frozen in place by the burning particles. As the sand began to cover his shoulders, he raised his head, refusing to be submerged while he could still fight it.

But when he looked up, the walls of the temple were gone. There was instead a mountain, carved into the face of a woman. As he watched, the mountainside cracked, and the stone fell away, and from the ruins emerged the lady whose face it once bore. She stood tall as the mountain itself, stern, with dark eyes that seemed eager to devour. As the sand piled higher and higher, and at last rose to his face, the last thing he saw was her thin smile.

* * *

Link's first waking feeling was relief at not actually drowning in sand.

His second was confusion. He lay beneath a thick comforter that smelt of lilac, and below that a layer of sheets that felt as soft on his skin as a wisp of cloud. This was not his bed. This was not his room.

Understanding came in a trickle. The previous night's storm had been quite fierce indeed, and Nabooru had not been keen to drive in it. One phone call later, Kafei had consented to let him stay the night at the castle.

Link sat up and stretched. His heart still raced too fast to allow him to sleep again. Some water, perhaps, might soothe him, but he was not sure he wanted to go wandering through the strange castle's many passageways alone at night.

The door crept open. A sliver of light from the hallway cast itself into the room, a shadow passed through it, and the door closed again.

"Who's there?" Link mumbled, still somewhat groggy.

"It's me," Zelda said. "Turn on your lamp."

He reached over to the nightstand he remembered being beside his bed. His hand grasped a ridged pole and felt its way down to the base.

"There should be a switch on the bottom," Zelda said. Her footsteps pattered closer.

He soon found it. Link winced in anticipation of the harsh light, but when he opened his eyes, there was only a soft glow emanating from the bulb.

Zelda sat down at the edge of his bed and handed him a chilled glass.

"I always enjoy iced tea after a nightmare," she said.

"Was I screaming?" His face warmed. He had thought no one had known. He wondered if he often screamed in his sleep, if his roommates had had to put up with it.

"I've been dreaming, too," Zelda said. "A flood of sand pouring through the windows of an abandoned temple."

"You too?" He sat up straighter. "What else have you dreamed?" It did not make sense. Sharing a dream should not have been possible, but there was no other way for her to have known what he saw.

She closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath. It felt odd to see her without a smile. When he saw her face, wreathed in the darkness of the room, he thought he could see a hint of the presence, the wisdom that seemed so natural in the great princesses of legend. On her, however, it seemed alien. The Zelda he knew was not so plagued with concern.

"I dreamed of you," she said. "Since June."

A chill ran through him. He looked away, down into his glass of tea. He knew the legends as well as anyone, and he did not like what she implied.

"How-" he began. He was not sure how to finish. _How did you know you dreamed of me? How did we come to be friends? How do you know the dreams mean anything?_ "Just… how?" he said at last.

For a moment, the corner of her mouth turned upward in a weak smile. She reached a hand out toward him, hesitated, then brought it back to her lap.

"Luck," she said. "Or maybe the Goddesses arranged it. I spent all summer looking for you at one orphanage or another, but it was really just an accident that I stumbled into in that coffee shop."

The pieces slammed together all at once. She had seen him in _Cuccos and Coffee_, and the very next day a family had come in and adopted him, after years of being ignored.

"Kafei didn't really want me, did he?" Of course not. Why would he have been that hopeful? He tried to hide the disappointment, but tears had already started to moisten the corners of his eyes. He knew he was being stupid, that even with the princess's intervention he still had a better life than he had ever known, but it didn't matter. The acceptance he had felt had been a lie. He wondered if even Zelda's friendship was genuine, or if he was just some imagined tool.

Again, Zelda reached out a hand, but stopped when he retreated from it.

"They had already been talking about adoption. And Anju, I believe, thinks that it was Kafei's idea."

He forced himself to sip at his tea. The cool liquid did help a little bit. He had not realized how thirsty he was until he began to drink.

"I hate having to do this," Zelda continued. "People just shouldn't be used like that. But I had to. We have to be ready."

"Ready for what?"

"I don't know. But it's coming, whatever it is."

He set the cup down on the nightstand and slid to his feet, relieved, at least, that he had decided to sleep in his running clothes. He walked back and forth across the room, trying to grasp what Zelda was saying. He was worried about his ability to pass Algebra, and now she wanted him to become the Hero of Hyrule.

"How do you know?" he said. "Even if these nightmares are the sign of some threat, how do you know I'm the hero?"

"I don't. I can't be sure until I see the Triforce of Courage rest on the back of your hand. But when I saw you, it felt right. And if that's not enough for you, you just called a storm last night."

"Coincidences happen," he said. If she had asked him about the storm yesterday, he would have told her that he felt something in the song, that maybe there was something weird going on. But now, that didn't matter. She was wrong. He could not be the hero.

"Look, even if there is something more out there, and I somehow changed the whether with a song a I just learned, that doesn't mean I'm the hero," he continued. "He's supposed to be strong and brave and fearsome. I couldn't even summon the courage to approach any of the visiting parents at the orphanage."

"Then become strong," Zelda said. "Link, I know it's weird, and frightening, but I saw your face in my dreams. It's you, I know it is. The darkness is growing. I have felt it, and I know you feel it too. If Ganon returns with the Triforce of Power, we have to be ready for him."

She strode over to where he stood and dropped to her knees.

"Please. As the Princess of Hyrule, I beg you, for the sake of my people, give us your courage once more."

It felt so wrong to see the girl who would one day run the country on her knees before him, a pitiful orphan. He wanted to run away, out the door, out of the castle, all the way back to his new home where no one wanted anything of him except that he study hard and keep things clean. He would have done so, had his legs not been rooted to the ground. He found that he had forgotten how to move, how to speak, and he could only stare down at the princess.

"If I am wrong, then I will give you anything you want. As the Princess of Hyrule, Heir to the Triforce of Wisdom, I swear it."

"What am I supposed to do?" he said when he finally found his voice.

"I don't know," Zelda said. "I don't even know that it's Ganon we're fighting. But together, we'll figure it out. Until then, prepare. You say you are weak, so become strong." She had not moved from her kneeling position. Her arms hung down by her sides, hands resting open on the ground. Her head was bowed, her golden hair draped loose over her shoulders.

He owed her nothing. She had altered his life for the sole purpose of gaining a tool. It didn't matter that the changes were good ones; she had no right to interfere with that. He ought to tell her to keep her plots to herself. It would certainly be justified.

But as much as he wanted to spurn her, he simply couldn't. What she said made too much sense, for one. The dreams that Zelda knew about without him telling her, the storm, the rightness he felt around her, it all fit so much better if Zelda was right.

And if she was right, and he turned her down, he didn't think he could face the consequences. Several times a year, Mr. Timmons had driven him and the others to memorials, honoring those who had fallen to Ganon's various attacks. The count of those who had died was staggering, some tens of thousands all together. That had been when there had been a Hero to oppose him, and very few people had even been alive to start with. The thought of this ancient menace, loose in the modern world of millions upon millions of people, with no one to stand against his atrocities was unbearable.

"I'll do my best," he promised, though he still hoped that it all turned out to be a mistake. He did not fancy the idea of heroism, and there was always the gift that Zelda promised if she was wrong besides. Perhaps he could get a free college education out of it.

Zelda sprang to her feet and wrapped her arms around him with a force that almost knocked him to the ground.

"Oh, thank you, thank you, I knew I could count on you," she said.

She was much too close. He supposed the proper thing to do would be to hug her back, but he still hadn't quite forgiven her for using him, and he was acutely aware of her body pressed against his, and all she was wearing was a thin tank top with her bare arms stretching around his neck, and why couldn't she just back off one or two steps?

His silent plea was answered when the door swung open, and Zelda instantly detached.

"I heard voices. What-" Nabooru began. She cut herself off with a string of expletives that Link was certain he wasn't meant to hear.

"I shall take the charitable interpretation here, and assume that you have just roped him into your insane little plan," she said, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"He said-"

"No. I am not dealing with this at two o'clock in the damn morning. Go to bed, princess."

Zelda grinned and hugged Nabooru as she walked out the door.

"You sure take your job seriously," Zelda said.

"'It's just one princess,' I said," Nabooru muttered. "How much trouble could she possibly get into?"

Once Zelda was out of the room, Nabooru shut the door and turned on Link.

"Be careful, boy," she said in a fierce whisper. "I do not know how much of what she says is real. I'm not sure I know anything anymore. But if the King of Darkness is rising once more, then Hero or not, you are in over your head. You have not tasted the desperation of the desert, boy, and I pray you never have to. Good night."

It was a long time before he fell asleep again, and when he did, his dreams were filled with the dark mutterings of a thousand dead men.

* * *

**Note****:** School resumes on Monday, so updates will slow down for a time. I will be taking four classes in addition to my full-time job, but I will do my best to work on this story when I can.


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